/A few weeks ago, I sat at a public library computer, typing this essay between housing appointments and case manager calls. It was quiet except for the soft hum of printers and the turning of pages. I had just left another night spent rotating between public parks and parking garage stairwells—places that became temporary sanctuaries when nowhere else would do. In those moments, watching my phone battery fade while applying for jobs, it was hard to believe that any of this could be "perfect."

And yet, strangely, it was. Because even then, I felt a peace I never knew during the more comfortable chapters of my life.

Recently, I listened to David Ghiyam speak about embracing our darkness as our superpower. His words hit differently when you’re living them. He described those moments when we have more questions than answers—like wondering where you’ll sleep tonight or how you’ll keep your phone service active long enough to stay in touch with housing workers.

But what if these aren’t just obstacles?
What if they’re portals to deeper understanding?

I had just received confirmation of eligibility for SHIP housing assistance. Logic said, finally—relief! But applying Ghiyam’s wisdom, I began to see something deeper. That period of uncertainty stripped away everything external, forcing me to find strength rooted beyond circumstance.

The sages speak of the nephesh—the part of the soul caught between physical need and spiritual truth. Living without stable housing has shown me how tightly I once clung to physical security as my identity. Each night outside became a silent prayer: do I choose resentment—or gratitude for simply surviving? Each meal from a food bank offered that same choice: shame or appreciation?